Crooked Wolf & Broken Hawk
by LaughingDingo
Summary: If the Crooked King were to meet the Broken Hawk.


**Universe**: Prime

**Characters**: Megatron, StarScream

**Rating**: PG-13

If the Crooked King were to meet the Broken Hawk.

**Extra**: Just a small drabble between my muses— thecrookedking (Megatron) and fragilebonesbroken (StarScream) on tumb1r.

* * *

The Crooked King had found himself soaring through the skies, which had grown dark and lustrous over the passing few minutes. Thunder clapped across the horizon as lightning bounced off of the massive frame of the Overlord. Although his body was healed of all dents and scratches thanks to the tainting of his Energon, he still felt weak and sick to his chassis at the feeling of being "filled to the brim" with Dark Energon, thanks to those monstrous and annoying Anti-Bodies of Unicrons'.

No matter what he could do to rid himself of the dreaded fate, it would always come back and claim its talons upon him.

A strike of lightning rocketed towards him and bounced off to connect back to the clouds. At this, he began to descend, in hopes to avoid another clash with the lightning. It was uncomfortable to feel his insides spark and flare in alarm at the sudden discharge of such high voltage.

Below there was a world of snow, nothing but snow. Save for the Ferris wheel that stood before the place, its rusted frame frozen solid with the blood of the skies. Transforming, he touched down next to the Ferris wheel, looking at it slightly as he tilted his helm. Such strange contraptions, humans had weird machines to use as entertainment.

Servos clenched tightly into fists, he noted something moved. Optics narrowed as he watched the silver snake writhe away from him, hissing as it dragged upon the frosted ground. Curiosity got the best of the Crooked King as he followed it with violet optics, his frame moving quietly as he followed its path.

He wasn't expecting what he found at the end of the line, but it made his war-torn face twist into a crooked smile.

StarScream.

Or what was left of him, anyway. He merely chuckled, causing the confused silver seeker to turn around, servos on his chain as he stared in mute horror at his once-lord that stood before him. Upon instinct, he lowered to his knee and lowered his helm, his frame quivering in fear.

Megatron simply sneered at the seeker, moving ever closer.

"**Get up.**" He commanded.

No response.

"**I said. GET. UP.**" He barked as he delivered a harsh kick to the seeker's already torn side. Choking for breath, the seeker quickly rose as he held to himself, wincing and whimpering.

"**Silence those wretched sounds. What in the pits happened to you, StarScream? It looks like Primus did me a favor by delivering me to you.**" His lips twisted even more into that crooked satisfied smile. The seeker only looked up at him with duo-colored optics and opened his maw to speak, but nothing came. Moving his digits furiously, he tried to play out, explain, what had happened to him.

The Crooked King didn't have any of it.

He delivered a head-butt to the other, knocking the seeker back, toppling off of his heels and onto his back as he silently howled in pain, his servos now covering his face. The crown snapped cleanly in two as he rolled onto his side then knees and arms, cradling his helm.

Forced down to his chassis by the pede of Megatron as he shifted his weight on the seeker's broken back, he leaned forward. "On second thought, I don't care what happened to you. Just let me return the favor what you—or your alternate –has done to me." He jeered as he removed his pede to snatch one of the seeker's four wings.

There was no sound to express the amount of sheer pain and agony the seeker let out when his wing was ripped from its joint harshly. Sparks and indigo matter splattered upon the ground and the warlord's chassis as he cackled at the hawk's misery.

"**Shame you cannot speak, I would have LOVED to hear you SCREAM.**" He said softly, almost sadly, but his features twisted as he moved his talons to sink into the joints of the second wing, hearing the cables tear and pop as he shred it off. The seeker danced in his grasp, his servos (one being broken after a suicide attempt) flailed as he clawed at the ground, trying to escape.

Lubricant fell from the seeker's optics as he choked on the rising bile in his chassis. No, he didn't have anything to bring up, yet he did. The pain was so unbearable that the slop coated the broken hawk's chassis as he splayed out on the ground. Megatron just sneered as he traced Energon soaked servos along the dented seeker's back with a low, possessive growl.

"**You are MINE.**" He snapped as he moved a knee to rest it against the other's backstrut, putting his weight on him as he knelt down. His servo moved to grip the seeker by the helm, tilting his helm backwards until he could hear the other choking that he couldn't breathe. The gladiator lowered his helm until his lips were close to the others audios, and gently, he seemed to say.

"**Good night, StarScream. The crooked wolf will dine on the broken hawk's corpse, tonight.**"

He moved his digits to swarm the seeker's gasping mouth as he dug his talons into the roof of his mouth. A digit dug into the bright white optic and shattered it instantly as he curled his digits. With a sharp tug, he ripped the top half of the seeker's helm off, sparks spraying everywhere as fountains of Energon sputtered from the exposed E-Lines.

The frame, once flailing, gave a few jerks before it became still, crashing down onto the puddle of slop mixed Energon. Still leaning on the corpse of the seeker, he felt tremendous satisfaction as he purred, holding the seeker's helm in his servo. Energon spilled over his servo like a cascade of poison.

He closed his servo to crush the helm, driving the same fist into the back of the seeker's dead husk, crushing the plating and clawing out his insides and raked out the spar-chamber, which was empty from being decapitated.

Standing, he shook his servo slightly, bringing his digits to his mouth to lick away the blood of his enemy with a black glossa, a loud purr rumbling in his chassis. He loomed over the carcass and chuckled, before he fell silent.

"**Good riddance.**"

With that whisper, he transformed and bolted into the storm that brewed ever-closer.


End file.
